When you are
gathering
your vintages you will prize me even
better.
better.
Aristophanes
[322]
HERMES. Into Simonides? How so?
TRYGAEUS. Because, though old and broken-down as he is, he would put to
sea on a hurdle to gain an obolus. [323]
HERMES. And wise Cratinus, is he still alive? [324]
TRYGAEUS. He died about the time of the Laconian invasion.
HERMES. How?
TRYGAEUS. Of a swoon. He could not bear the shock of seeing one of his
casks full of wine broken. Ah! what a number of other misfortunes our
city has suffered! So, dearest mistress, nothing can now separate us from
thee.
HERMES. If that be so, receive Opora here for a wife; take her to the
country, live with her, and grow fine grapes together. [325]
TRYGAEUS. Come, my dear friend, come and accept my kisses. Tell me,
Hermes, my master, do you think it would hurt me to fuck her a little,
after so long an abstinence?
HERMES. No, not if you swallow a potion of penny-royal afterwards. [326]
But hasten to lead Theoria[327] to the Senate; 'twas there she lodged
before.
TRYGAEUS. Oh! fortunate Senate! Thanks to Theoria, what soups you will
swallow for the space of three days! [328] how you will devour meats and
cooked tripe! Come, farewell, friend Hermes!
HERMES. And to you also, my dear sir, may you have much happiness, and
don't forget me.
TRYGAEUS. Come, beetle, home, home, and let us fly on a swift wing.
HERMES. Oh! he is no longer here.
TRYGAEUS. Where has he gone to then?
HERMES. He is harnessed to the chariot of Zeus and bears the
thunderbolts.
TRYGAEUS. But where will the poor wretch get his food?
HERMES. He will eat Ganymede's ambrosia.
TRYGAEUS. Very well then, but how am I going to descend?
HERMES. Oh! never fear, there is nothing simpler; place yourself beside
the goddess.
TRYGAEUS. Come, my pretty maidens, follow me quickly; there are plenty of
folk awaiting you with standing tools.
CHORUS. Farewell and good luck be yours! Let us begin by handing over all
this gear to the care of our servants, for no place is less safe than a
theatre; there is always a crowd of thieves prowling around it, seeking
to find some mischief to do. Come, keep a good watch over all this. As
for ourselves, let us explain to the spectators what we have in our
minds, the purpose of our play.
Undoubtedly the comic poet who mounted the stage to praise himself in the
parabasis would deserve to be handed over to the sticks of the beadles.
Nevertheless, oh Muse, if it be right to esteem the most honest and
illustrious of our comic writers at his proper value, permit our poet to
say that he thinks he has deserved a glorious renown. First of all, 'tis
he who has compelled his rivals no longer to scoff at rags or to war with
lice; and as for those Heracles, always chewing and ever hungry, those
poltroons and cheats who allow themselves to be beaten at will, he was
the first to cover them with ridicule and to chase them from the
stage;[329] he has also dismissed that slave, whom one never failed to
set a-weeping before you, so that his comrade might have the chance of
jeering at his stripes and might ask, "Wretch, what has happened to your
hide? Has the lash rained an army of its thongs on you and laid your back
waste? " After having delivered us from all these wearisome ineptitudes
and these low buffooneries, he has built up for us a great art, like a
palace with high towers, constructed of fine phrases, great thoughts and
of jokes not common on the streets. Moreover 'tis not obscure private
persons or women that he stages in his comedies; but, bold as Heracles,
'tis the very greatest whom he attacks, undeterred by the fetid stink of
leather or the threats of hearts of mud. He has the right to say, "I am
the first ever dared to go straight for that beast with the sharp teeth
and the terrible eyes that flashed lambent fire like those of Cynna,[330]
surrounded by a hundred lewd flatterers, who spittle-licked him to his
heart's content; it had a voice like a roaring torrent, the stench of a
seal, a foul Lamia's testicles and the rump of a camel. "[331]
I did not recoil in horror at the sight of such a monster, but fought him
relentlessly to win your deliverance and that of the Islanders. Such are
the services which should be graven in your recollection and entitle me
to your thanks. Yet I have not been seen frequenting the wrestling school
intoxicated with success and trying to tamper with young boys;[332] but I
took all my theatrical gear[333] and returned straight home. I pained
folk but little and caused them much amusement; my conscience rebuked me
for nothing. Hence both grown men and youths should be on my side and I
likewise invite the bald[334] to give me their votes; for, if I triumph,
everyone will say, both at table and at festivals, "Carry this to the
bald man, give these cakes to the bald one, do not grudge the poet whose
talent shines as bright as his own bare skull the share he deserves. "
Oh, Muse! drive the War far from our city and come to preside over our
dances, if you love me; come and celebrate the nuptials of the gods, the
banquets of us mortals and the festivals of the fortunate; these are the
themes that inspire thy most poetic songs. And should Carcinus come to
beg thee for admission with his sons to thy chorus, refuse all traffic
with them; remember they are but gelded birds, stork-necked dancers,
mannikins about as tall as a pat of goat's dung, in fact machine-made
poets. [335] Contrary to all expectation, the father has at last managed
to finish a piece, but he owns himself a cat strangled it one fine
evening. [336]
Such are the songs[337] with which the Muse with the glorious hair
inspires the able poet and which enchant the assembled populace, when the
spring swallow twitters beneath the foliage;[338] but the god spare us
from the chorus of Morsimus and that of Melanthius! [339] Oh! what a
bitter discordancy grated upon my ears that day when the tragic chorus
was directed by this same Melanthius and his brother, these two
Gorgons,[340] these two harpies, the plague of the seas, whose gluttonous
bellies devour the entire race of fishes, these followers of old women,
these goats with their stinking arm-pits. Oh! Muse, spit upon them
abundantly and keep the feast gaily with me.
TRYGAEUS. Ah! 'tis a rough job getting to the gods! my legs are as good
as broken through it. How small you were, to be sure, when seen from
heaven! you had all the appearance too of being great rascals; but seen
close, you look even worse.
SERVANT. Is that you, master?
TRYGAEUS. So I have been told.
SERVANT. What has happened to you?
TRYGAEUS. My legs pain me; it is such a plaguey long journey.
SERVANT. Oh! do tell me. . . .
TRYGAEUS. What?
SERVANT. Did you see any other man besides yourself strolling about in
heaven?
TRYGAEUS. No, only the souls of two or three dithyrambic poets.
SERVANT. What were they doing up there?
TRYGAEUS. They were seeking to catch some lyric exordia as they flew by
immersed in the billows of the air.
SERVANT. Is it true, what they tell us, that men are turned into stars
after death?
TRYGAEUS. Quite true.
SERVANT. Then who is that star I see over yonder?
TRYGAEUS. That is Ion of Chios,[341] the author of an ode beginning
"Morning"; as soon as ever he got to heaven, they called him "the Morning
Star. "
SERVANT. And those stars like sparks, that plough up the air as they dart
across the sky? [342]
TRYGAEUS. They are the rich leaving the feast with a lantern and a light
inside it. But hurry up, show this young girl into my house, clean out
the bath, heat some water and prepare the nuptial couch for herself and
me. When 'tis done, come back here; meanwhile I am off to present this
one to the Senate.
SERVANT. But where then did you get these pretty chattels?
TRYGAEUS. Where? why in heaven.
SERVANT. I would not give more than an obolus for gods who have got to
keeping brothels like us mere mortals.
TRYGAEUS. They are not all so, but there are some up there too who live
by this trade.
SERVANT. Come, that's rich! But I bethink me, shall I give her something
to eat?
TRYGAEUS. No, for she would neither touch bread nor cake; she is used to
licking ambrosia at the table of the gods.
SERVANT. Well, we can give her something to lick down here too. [343]
CHORUS. Here is a truly happy old man, as far as I can judge.
TRYGAEUS. Ah! but what shall I be, when you see me presently dressed for
the wedding?
CHORUS. Made young again by love and scented with perfumes, your lot will
be one we all shall envy.
TRYGAEUS. And when I lie beside her and caress her bosoms?
CHORUS. Oh! then you will be happier than those spinning-tops who call
Carcinus their father. [344]
TRYGAEUS. And I well deserve it; have I not bestridden a beetle to save
the Greeks, who now, thanks to me, can make love at their ease and sleep
peacefully on their farms?
SERVANT. The girl has quitted the bath; she is charming from head to
foot, both belly and buttocks; the cake is baked and they are kneading
the sesame-biscuit;[345] nothing is lacking but the bridegroom's penis.
TRYGAEUS. Let us first hasten to lodge Theoria in the hands of the
Senate.
SERVANT. But tell me, who is this woman?
TRYGAEUS. Why, 'tis Theoria, with whom we used formerly to go to
Brauron,[346] to get tipsy and frolic. I had the greatest trouble to get
hold of her.
SERVANT. Ah! you charmer! what pleasure your pretty bottom will afford me
every four years!
TRYGAEUS. Let us see, who of you is steady enough to be trusted by the
Senate with the care of this charming wench? Hi! you, friend! what are
you drawing there?
SERVANT. I am drawing the plan of the tent I wish to erect for myself on
the isthmus. [347]
TRYGAEUS. Come, who wishes to take the charge of her? No one? Come,
Theoria, I am going to lead you into the midst of the spectators and
confide you to their care.
SERVANT. Ah! there is one who makes a sign to you.
TRYGAEUS. Who is it?
SERVANT. 'Tis Ariphrades. He wishes to take her home at once.
TRYGAEUS. No, I'm sure he shan't. He would soon have her done for,
licking up all her life juice. [348] Come, Theoria, put down all this
gear. [349]--Senate, Prytanes, look upon Theoria and see what precious
blessings I place in your hands. [350] Hasten to raise its limbs and to
immolate the victim. Admire the fine chimney,[351] it is quite black with
smoke, for 'twas here that the Senate did their cooking before the War.
Now that you have found Theoria again, you can start the most charming
games from to-morrow, wrestling with her on the ground, either on your
hands and feet, or you can lay her on her side, or stand before her with
bent knees, or, well rubbed with oil, you can boldly enter the lists, as
in the Pancratium, belabouring your foe with blows from your fist or
otherwise. [352] The next day you will celebrate equestrian games, in
which the riders will ride side by side, or else the chariot teams,
thrown one on top of another, panting and whinnying, will roll and knock
against each other on the ground, while other rivals, thrown out of their
seats, will fall before reaching the goal, utterly exhausted by their
efforts. --Come, Prytanes, take Theoria. Oh! look how graciously yonder
fellow has received her; you would not have been in such a hurry to
introduce her to the Senate, if nothing were coming to you through
it;[353] you would not have failed to plead some holiday as an excuse.
CHORUS. Such a man as you assures the happiness of all his
fellow-citizens.
TRYGAEUS.
When you are gathering your vintages you will prize me even
better.
CHORUS. E'en from to-day we hail you as the deliverer of mankind.
TRYGAEUS. Wait until you have drunk a beaker of new wine, before you
appraise my true merits.
CHORUS. Excepting the gods, there is none greater than yourself, and that
will ever be our opinion.
TRYGAEUS. Yea, Trygaeus of Athmonia has deserved well of you, he has
freed both husbandman and craftsman from the most cruel ills; he has
vanquished Hyperbolus.
CHORUS. Well then, what must we do now?
TRYGAEUS. You must offer pots of green-stuff to the goddess to consecrate
her altars.
CHORUS. Pots of green-stuff[354] as we do to poor Hermes--and even he
thinks the fare but mean?
TRYGAEUS. What will you offer then? A fatted bull?
CHORUS. Oh, no! I don't want to start bellowing the battle-cry. [355]
TRYGAEUS. A great fat swine then?
CHORUS. No, no.
TRYGAEUS. Why not?
CHORUS. We don't want any of the swinishness of Theagenes. [356]
TRYGAEUS. What other victim do you prefer then?
CHORUS. A sheep.
TRYGAEUS. A sheep?
CHORUS. Yes.
TRYGAEUS. But you must give the word the Ionic form.
CHORUS. Purposely. So that if anyone in the assembly says, "We must go to
war," all may start bleating in alarm, "O? , o? . "[357]
TRYGAEUS. A brilliant idea.
CHORUS. And we shall all be lambs one toward the other, yea, and milder
still toward the allies.
TRYGAEUS. Then go for the sheep and haste to bring it back with you; I
will prepare the altar for the sacrifice.
CHORUS. How everything succeeds to our wish, when the gods are willing
and Fortune favours us! how opportunely everything falls out.
TRYGAEUS. Nothing could be truer, for look! here stands the altar all
ready at my door.
CHORUS. Hurry, hurry, for the winds are fickle; make haste, while the
divine will is set on stopping this cruel war and is showering on us the
most striking benefits.
TRYGAEUS. Here is the basket of barley-seed mingled with salt, the
chaplet and the sacred knife; and there is the fire; so we are only
waiting for the sheep.
CHORUS. Hasten, hasten, for, if Chaeris sees you, he will come without
bidding, he and his flute; and when you see him puffing and panting and
out of breath, you will have to give him something.
TRYGAEUS. Come, seize the basket and take the lustral water and hurry to
circle round the altar to the right.
SERVANT. There! 'tis done. What is your next bidding?
TRYGAEUS. Hold! I take this fire-brand first and plunge it into the
water.
SERVANT. Be quick! be quick! Sprinkle the altar.
TRYGAEUS. Give me some barley-seed, purify yourself and hand me the
basin; then scatter the rest of the barley among the audience.
SERVANT. 'Tis done.
TRYGAEUS. You have thrown it?
SERVANT. Yes, by Hermes! and all the spectators have had their share.
TRYGAEUS. But not the women?
SERVANT. Oh! their husbands will give it them this evening. [358]
TRYGAEUS. Let us pray! Who is here? Are there any good men? [359]
SERVANT. Come, give, so that I may sprinkle these. Faith! they are indeed
good, brave men.
TRYGAEUS. You believe so?
SERVANT. I am sure, and the proof of it is that we have flooded them with
lustral water and they have not budged an inch. [360]
TRYGAEUS. Come then, to prayers; to prayers, quick! --Oh! Peace, mighty
queen, venerated goddess, thou, who presidest over choruses and at
nuptials, deign to accept the sacrifices we offer thee.
SERVANT. Receive it, greatly honoured mistress, and behave not like the
coquettes, who half open the door to entice the gallants, draw back when
they are stared at, to return once more if a man passes on. But do not
act like this to us.
TRYGAEUS. No, but like an honest woman, show thyself to thy worshippers,
who are worn with regretting thee all these thirteen years. Hush the
noise of battle, be a true Lysimacha to us. [361] Put an end to this
tittle-tattle, to this idle babble, that set us defying one another.
Cause the Greeks once more to taste the pleasant beverage of friendship
and temper all hearts with the gentle feeling of forgiveness. Make
excellent commodities flow to our markets, fine heads of garlic, early
cucumbers, apples, pomegranates and nice little cloaks for the slaves;
make them bring geese, ducks, pigeons and larks from Boeotia and baskets
of eels from Lake Copa? s; we shall all rush to buy them, disputing their
possession with Morychus, Teleas, Glaucetes and every other glutton.
Melanthius[362] will arrive on the market last of all; 'twill be, "no
more eels, all sold! " and then he'll start a-groaning and exclaiming as
in his monologue of Medea,[363] "I am dying, I am dying! Alas! I have let
those hidden in the beet escape me! "[364] And won't we laugh? These are
the wishes, mighty goddess, which we pray thee to grant.
SERVANT. Take the knife and slaughter the sheep like a finished cook.
TRYGAEUS. No, the goddess does not wish it. [365]
SERVANT. And why not?
TRYGAEUS. Blood cannot please Peace, so let us spill none upon her altar.
Therefore go and sacrifice the sheep in the house, cut off the legs and
bring them here; thus the carcase will be saved for the choragus.
CHORUS. You, who remain here, get chopped wood and everything needed for
the sacrifice ready.
TRYGAEUS. Don't I look like a diviner preparing his mystic fire?
CHORUS. Undoubtedly. Will anything that it behoves a wise man to know
escape you? Don't you know all that a man should know, who is
distinguished for his wisdom and inventive daring?
TRYGAEUS. There! the wood catches. Its smoke blinds poor Stilbides. [366]
I am now going to bring the table and thus be my own slave.
CHORUS. You have braved a thousand dangers to save your sacred town. All
honour to you! your glory will be ever envied.
SERVANT. Hold! here are the legs, place them upon the altar. For myself,
I mean to go back to the entrails and the cakes.
TRYGAEUS. I'll see to those; I want you here.
SERVANT. Well then, here I am. Do you think I have been long?
TRYGAEUS. Just get this roasted. Ah! who is this man, crowned with
laurel, who is coming to me?
SERVANT. He has a self-important look; is he some diviner?
TRYGAEUS. No, i' faith! 'tis Hierocles.
SERVANT. Ah! that oracle-monger from Oreus. [367] What is he going to tell
us?
TRYGAEUS. Evidently he is coming to oppose the peace.
SERVANT. No, 'tis the odour of the fat that attracts him.
TRYGAEUS. Let us appear not to see him.
SERVANT. Very well.
HIEROCLES. What sacrifice is this? to what god are you offering it?
TRYGAEUS (_to the servant_). Silence! --(_Aloud. _) Look after the roasting
and keep your hands off the meat.
HIEROCLES. To whom are you sacrificing? Answer me. Ah! the tail[368] is
showing favourable omens.
SERVANT. Aye, very favourable, oh, loved and mighty Peace!
HIEROCLES. Come, cut off the first offering[369] and make the oblation.
TRYGAEUS. 'Tis not roasted enough.
HIEROCLES. Yea, truly, 'tis done to a turn.
TRYGAEUS. Mind your own business, friend! (_To the servant. _) Cut away.
HERMES. Into Simonides? How so?
TRYGAEUS. Because, though old and broken-down as he is, he would put to
sea on a hurdle to gain an obolus. [323]
HERMES. And wise Cratinus, is he still alive? [324]
TRYGAEUS. He died about the time of the Laconian invasion.
HERMES. How?
TRYGAEUS. Of a swoon. He could not bear the shock of seeing one of his
casks full of wine broken. Ah! what a number of other misfortunes our
city has suffered! So, dearest mistress, nothing can now separate us from
thee.
HERMES. If that be so, receive Opora here for a wife; take her to the
country, live with her, and grow fine grapes together. [325]
TRYGAEUS. Come, my dear friend, come and accept my kisses. Tell me,
Hermes, my master, do you think it would hurt me to fuck her a little,
after so long an abstinence?
HERMES. No, not if you swallow a potion of penny-royal afterwards. [326]
But hasten to lead Theoria[327] to the Senate; 'twas there she lodged
before.
TRYGAEUS. Oh! fortunate Senate! Thanks to Theoria, what soups you will
swallow for the space of three days! [328] how you will devour meats and
cooked tripe! Come, farewell, friend Hermes!
HERMES. And to you also, my dear sir, may you have much happiness, and
don't forget me.
TRYGAEUS. Come, beetle, home, home, and let us fly on a swift wing.
HERMES. Oh! he is no longer here.
TRYGAEUS. Where has he gone to then?
HERMES. He is harnessed to the chariot of Zeus and bears the
thunderbolts.
TRYGAEUS. But where will the poor wretch get his food?
HERMES. He will eat Ganymede's ambrosia.
TRYGAEUS. Very well then, but how am I going to descend?
HERMES. Oh! never fear, there is nothing simpler; place yourself beside
the goddess.
TRYGAEUS. Come, my pretty maidens, follow me quickly; there are plenty of
folk awaiting you with standing tools.
CHORUS. Farewell and good luck be yours! Let us begin by handing over all
this gear to the care of our servants, for no place is less safe than a
theatre; there is always a crowd of thieves prowling around it, seeking
to find some mischief to do. Come, keep a good watch over all this. As
for ourselves, let us explain to the spectators what we have in our
minds, the purpose of our play.
Undoubtedly the comic poet who mounted the stage to praise himself in the
parabasis would deserve to be handed over to the sticks of the beadles.
Nevertheless, oh Muse, if it be right to esteem the most honest and
illustrious of our comic writers at his proper value, permit our poet to
say that he thinks he has deserved a glorious renown. First of all, 'tis
he who has compelled his rivals no longer to scoff at rags or to war with
lice; and as for those Heracles, always chewing and ever hungry, those
poltroons and cheats who allow themselves to be beaten at will, he was
the first to cover them with ridicule and to chase them from the
stage;[329] he has also dismissed that slave, whom one never failed to
set a-weeping before you, so that his comrade might have the chance of
jeering at his stripes and might ask, "Wretch, what has happened to your
hide? Has the lash rained an army of its thongs on you and laid your back
waste? " After having delivered us from all these wearisome ineptitudes
and these low buffooneries, he has built up for us a great art, like a
palace with high towers, constructed of fine phrases, great thoughts and
of jokes not common on the streets. Moreover 'tis not obscure private
persons or women that he stages in his comedies; but, bold as Heracles,
'tis the very greatest whom he attacks, undeterred by the fetid stink of
leather or the threats of hearts of mud. He has the right to say, "I am
the first ever dared to go straight for that beast with the sharp teeth
and the terrible eyes that flashed lambent fire like those of Cynna,[330]
surrounded by a hundred lewd flatterers, who spittle-licked him to his
heart's content; it had a voice like a roaring torrent, the stench of a
seal, a foul Lamia's testicles and the rump of a camel. "[331]
I did not recoil in horror at the sight of such a monster, but fought him
relentlessly to win your deliverance and that of the Islanders. Such are
the services which should be graven in your recollection and entitle me
to your thanks. Yet I have not been seen frequenting the wrestling school
intoxicated with success and trying to tamper with young boys;[332] but I
took all my theatrical gear[333] and returned straight home. I pained
folk but little and caused them much amusement; my conscience rebuked me
for nothing. Hence both grown men and youths should be on my side and I
likewise invite the bald[334] to give me their votes; for, if I triumph,
everyone will say, both at table and at festivals, "Carry this to the
bald man, give these cakes to the bald one, do not grudge the poet whose
talent shines as bright as his own bare skull the share he deserves. "
Oh, Muse! drive the War far from our city and come to preside over our
dances, if you love me; come and celebrate the nuptials of the gods, the
banquets of us mortals and the festivals of the fortunate; these are the
themes that inspire thy most poetic songs. And should Carcinus come to
beg thee for admission with his sons to thy chorus, refuse all traffic
with them; remember they are but gelded birds, stork-necked dancers,
mannikins about as tall as a pat of goat's dung, in fact machine-made
poets. [335] Contrary to all expectation, the father has at last managed
to finish a piece, but he owns himself a cat strangled it one fine
evening. [336]
Such are the songs[337] with which the Muse with the glorious hair
inspires the able poet and which enchant the assembled populace, when the
spring swallow twitters beneath the foliage;[338] but the god spare us
from the chorus of Morsimus and that of Melanthius! [339] Oh! what a
bitter discordancy grated upon my ears that day when the tragic chorus
was directed by this same Melanthius and his brother, these two
Gorgons,[340] these two harpies, the plague of the seas, whose gluttonous
bellies devour the entire race of fishes, these followers of old women,
these goats with their stinking arm-pits. Oh! Muse, spit upon them
abundantly and keep the feast gaily with me.
TRYGAEUS. Ah! 'tis a rough job getting to the gods! my legs are as good
as broken through it. How small you were, to be sure, when seen from
heaven! you had all the appearance too of being great rascals; but seen
close, you look even worse.
SERVANT. Is that you, master?
TRYGAEUS. So I have been told.
SERVANT. What has happened to you?
TRYGAEUS. My legs pain me; it is such a plaguey long journey.
SERVANT. Oh! do tell me. . . .
TRYGAEUS. What?
SERVANT. Did you see any other man besides yourself strolling about in
heaven?
TRYGAEUS. No, only the souls of two or three dithyrambic poets.
SERVANT. What were they doing up there?
TRYGAEUS. They were seeking to catch some lyric exordia as they flew by
immersed in the billows of the air.
SERVANT. Is it true, what they tell us, that men are turned into stars
after death?
TRYGAEUS. Quite true.
SERVANT. Then who is that star I see over yonder?
TRYGAEUS. That is Ion of Chios,[341] the author of an ode beginning
"Morning"; as soon as ever he got to heaven, they called him "the Morning
Star. "
SERVANT. And those stars like sparks, that plough up the air as they dart
across the sky? [342]
TRYGAEUS. They are the rich leaving the feast with a lantern and a light
inside it. But hurry up, show this young girl into my house, clean out
the bath, heat some water and prepare the nuptial couch for herself and
me. When 'tis done, come back here; meanwhile I am off to present this
one to the Senate.
SERVANT. But where then did you get these pretty chattels?
TRYGAEUS. Where? why in heaven.
SERVANT. I would not give more than an obolus for gods who have got to
keeping brothels like us mere mortals.
TRYGAEUS. They are not all so, but there are some up there too who live
by this trade.
SERVANT. Come, that's rich! But I bethink me, shall I give her something
to eat?
TRYGAEUS. No, for she would neither touch bread nor cake; she is used to
licking ambrosia at the table of the gods.
SERVANT. Well, we can give her something to lick down here too. [343]
CHORUS. Here is a truly happy old man, as far as I can judge.
TRYGAEUS. Ah! but what shall I be, when you see me presently dressed for
the wedding?
CHORUS. Made young again by love and scented with perfumes, your lot will
be one we all shall envy.
TRYGAEUS. And when I lie beside her and caress her bosoms?
CHORUS. Oh! then you will be happier than those spinning-tops who call
Carcinus their father. [344]
TRYGAEUS. And I well deserve it; have I not bestridden a beetle to save
the Greeks, who now, thanks to me, can make love at their ease and sleep
peacefully on their farms?
SERVANT. The girl has quitted the bath; she is charming from head to
foot, both belly and buttocks; the cake is baked and they are kneading
the sesame-biscuit;[345] nothing is lacking but the bridegroom's penis.
TRYGAEUS. Let us first hasten to lodge Theoria in the hands of the
Senate.
SERVANT. But tell me, who is this woman?
TRYGAEUS. Why, 'tis Theoria, with whom we used formerly to go to
Brauron,[346] to get tipsy and frolic. I had the greatest trouble to get
hold of her.
SERVANT. Ah! you charmer! what pleasure your pretty bottom will afford me
every four years!
TRYGAEUS. Let us see, who of you is steady enough to be trusted by the
Senate with the care of this charming wench? Hi! you, friend! what are
you drawing there?
SERVANT. I am drawing the plan of the tent I wish to erect for myself on
the isthmus. [347]
TRYGAEUS. Come, who wishes to take the charge of her? No one? Come,
Theoria, I am going to lead you into the midst of the spectators and
confide you to their care.
SERVANT. Ah! there is one who makes a sign to you.
TRYGAEUS. Who is it?
SERVANT. 'Tis Ariphrades. He wishes to take her home at once.
TRYGAEUS. No, I'm sure he shan't. He would soon have her done for,
licking up all her life juice. [348] Come, Theoria, put down all this
gear. [349]--Senate, Prytanes, look upon Theoria and see what precious
blessings I place in your hands. [350] Hasten to raise its limbs and to
immolate the victim. Admire the fine chimney,[351] it is quite black with
smoke, for 'twas here that the Senate did their cooking before the War.
Now that you have found Theoria again, you can start the most charming
games from to-morrow, wrestling with her on the ground, either on your
hands and feet, or you can lay her on her side, or stand before her with
bent knees, or, well rubbed with oil, you can boldly enter the lists, as
in the Pancratium, belabouring your foe with blows from your fist or
otherwise. [352] The next day you will celebrate equestrian games, in
which the riders will ride side by side, or else the chariot teams,
thrown one on top of another, panting and whinnying, will roll and knock
against each other on the ground, while other rivals, thrown out of their
seats, will fall before reaching the goal, utterly exhausted by their
efforts. --Come, Prytanes, take Theoria. Oh! look how graciously yonder
fellow has received her; you would not have been in such a hurry to
introduce her to the Senate, if nothing were coming to you through
it;[353] you would not have failed to plead some holiday as an excuse.
CHORUS. Such a man as you assures the happiness of all his
fellow-citizens.
TRYGAEUS.
When you are gathering your vintages you will prize me even
better.
CHORUS. E'en from to-day we hail you as the deliverer of mankind.
TRYGAEUS. Wait until you have drunk a beaker of new wine, before you
appraise my true merits.
CHORUS. Excepting the gods, there is none greater than yourself, and that
will ever be our opinion.
TRYGAEUS. Yea, Trygaeus of Athmonia has deserved well of you, he has
freed both husbandman and craftsman from the most cruel ills; he has
vanquished Hyperbolus.
CHORUS. Well then, what must we do now?
TRYGAEUS. You must offer pots of green-stuff to the goddess to consecrate
her altars.
CHORUS. Pots of green-stuff[354] as we do to poor Hermes--and even he
thinks the fare but mean?
TRYGAEUS. What will you offer then? A fatted bull?
CHORUS. Oh, no! I don't want to start bellowing the battle-cry. [355]
TRYGAEUS. A great fat swine then?
CHORUS. No, no.
TRYGAEUS. Why not?
CHORUS. We don't want any of the swinishness of Theagenes. [356]
TRYGAEUS. What other victim do you prefer then?
CHORUS. A sheep.
TRYGAEUS. A sheep?
CHORUS. Yes.
TRYGAEUS. But you must give the word the Ionic form.
CHORUS. Purposely. So that if anyone in the assembly says, "We must go to
war," all may start bleating in alarm, "O? , o? . "[357]
TRYGAEUS. A brilliant idea.
CHORUS. And we shall all be lambs one toward the other, yea, and milder
still toward the allies.
TRYGAEUS. Then go for the sheep and haste to bring it back with you; I
will prepare the altar for the sacrifice.
CHORUS. How everything succeeds to our wish, when the gods are willing
and Fortune favours us! how opportunely everything falls out.
TRYGAEUS. Nothing could be truer, for look! here stands the altar all
ready at my door.
CHORUS. Hurry, hurry, for the winds are fickle; make haste, while the
divine will is set on stopping this cruel war and is showering on us the
most striking benefits.
TRYGAEUS. Here is the basket of barley-seed mingled with salt, the
chaplet and the sacred knife; and there is the fire; so we are only
waiting for the sheep.
CHORUS. Hasten, hasten, for, if Chaeris sees you, he will come without
bidding, he and his flute; and when you see him puffing and panting and
out of breath, you will have to give him something.
TRYGAEUS. Come, seize the basket and take the lustral water and hurry to
circle round the altar to the right.
SERVANT. There! 'tis done. What is your next bidding?
TRYGAEUS. Hold! I take this fire-brand first and plunge it into the
water.
SERVANT. Be quick! be quick! Sprinkle the altar.
TRYGAEUS. Give me some barley-seed, purify yourself and hand me the
basin; then scatter the rest of the barley among the audience.
SERVANT. 'Tis done.
TRYGAEUS. You have thrown it?
SERVANT. Yes, by Hermes! and all the spectators have had their share.
TRYGAEUS. But not the women?
SERVANT. Oh! their husbands will give it them this evening. [358]
TRYGAEUS. Let us pray! Who is here? Are there any good men? [359]
SERVANT. Come, give, so that I may sprinkle these. Faith! they are indeed
good, brave men.
TRYGAEUS. You believe so?
SERVANT. I am sure, and the proof of it is that we have flooded them with
lustral water and they have not budged an inch. [360]
TRYGAEUS. Come then, to prayers; to prayers, quick! --Oh! Peace, mighty
queen, venerated goddess, thou, who presidest over choruses and at
nuptials, deign to accept the sacrifices we offer thee.
SERVANT. Receive it, greatly honoured mistress, and behave not like the
coquettes, who half open the door to entice the gallants, draw back when
they are stared at, to return once more if a man passes on. But do not
act like this to us.
TRYGAEUS. No, but like an honest woman, show thyself to thy worshippers,
who are worn with regretting thee all these thirteen years. Hush the
noise of battle, be a true Lysimacha to us. [361] Put an end to this
tittle-tattle, to this idle babble, that set us defying one another.
Cause the Greeks once more to taste the pleasant beverage of friendship
and temper all hearts with the gentle feeling of forgiveness. Make
excellent commodities flow to our markets, fine heads of garlic, early
cucumbers, apples, pomegranates and nice little cloaks for the slaves;
make them bring geese, ducks, pigeons and larks from Boeotia and baskets
of eels from Lake Copa? s; we shall all rush to buy them, disputing their
possession with Morychus, Teleas, Glaucetes and every other glutton.
Melanthius[362] will arrive on the market last of all; 'twill be, "no
more eels, all sold! " and then he'll start a-groaning and exclaiming as
in his monologue of Medea,[363] "I am dying, I am dying! Alas! I have let
those hidden in the beet escape me! "[364] And won't we laugh? These are
the wishes, mighty goddess, which we pray thee to grant.
SERVANT. Take the knife and slaughter the sheep like a finished cook.
TRYGAEUS. No, the goddess does not wish it. [365]
SERVANT. And why not?
TRYGAEUS. Blood cannot please Peace, so let us spill none upon her altar.
Therefore go and sacrifice the sheep in the house, cut off the legs and
bring them here; thus the carcase will be saved for the choragus.
CHORUS. You, who remain here, get chopped wood and everything needed for
the sacrifice ready.
TRYGAEUS. Don't I look like a diviner preparing his mystic fire?
CHORUS. Undoubtedly. Will anything that it behoves a wise man to know
escape you? Don't you know all that a man should know, who is
distinguished for his wisdom and inventive daring?
TRYGAEUS. There! the wood catches. Its smoke blinds poor Stilbides. [366]
I am now going to bring the table and thus be my own slave.
CHORUS. You have braved a thousand dangers to save your sacred town. All
honour to you! your glory will be ever envied.
SERVANT. Hold! here are the legs, place them upon the altar. For myself,
I mean to go back to the entrails and the cakes.
TRYGAEUS. I'll see to those; I want you here.
SERVANT. Well then, here I am. Do you think I have been long?
TRYGAEUS. Just get this roasted. Ah! who is this man, crowned with
laurel, who is coming to me?
SERVANT. He has a self-important look; is he some diviner?
TRYGAEUS. No, i' faith! 'tis Hierocles.
SERVANT. Ah! that oracle-monger from Oreus. [367] What is he going to tell
us?
TRYGAEUS. Evidently he is coming to oppose the peace.
SERVANT. No, 'tis the odour of the fat that attracts him.
TRYGAEUS. Let us appear not to see him.
SERVANT. Very well.
HIEROCLES. What sacrifice is this? to what god are you offering it?
TRYGAEUS (_to the servant_). Silence! --(_Aloud. _) Look after the roasting
and keep your hands off the meat.
HIEROCLES. To whom are you sacrificing? Answer me. Ah! the tail[368] is
showing favourable omens.
SERVANT. Aye, very favourable, oh, loved and mighty Peace!
HIEROCLES. Come, cut off the first offering[369] and make the oblation.
TRYGAEUS. 'Tis not roasted enough.
HIEROCLES. Yea, truly, 'tis done to a turn.
TRYGAEUS. Mind your own business, friend! (_To the servant. _) Cut away.
